Survivor
by Heath Wingwhit
Summary: Lara and Sam struggle to adapt to life after the events of Yamatai. Lara x Sam


A/N: I don't know anything about ships (real ones that go on water) so bear with me. Anyway, after finishing the game I had to get this out of my system. This game makes it easy to ship. Blame the glorious snippetcentric for telling me to post this if you guys hate it. One shot!

* * *

What once had been smooth flesh is now sunburned and engraved with scars: testaments of survival. The events of the island seem impossible in many ways, the stuff of fantasy books and outlandish animes. Not real life. Lara's eyes are harder, almost paranoid. They dart this way and that, vigilant.

The Resistance is gone. This new ship is temporary, meant to get them home. At least they can get away from the island. Lara did that. Somehow. Sam fights the worry that hits when the ship tips too mightily to the left. They won't crash again. Not on the damn island. Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, does it…?

She picks up the video camera, hungry for a relic of the past that she used to enjoy, something that will make it feel like old times again, like the craziest thing ever hadn't just happened. She's always liked recording Lara. The rescue ship had some old equipment. Sam found it in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, when the nightmares plagued her. What has Lara seen…?

Sam usually opens with a quip, with an intro. This time, nothing. They're sharing cramped quarters, a thin rectangular room dotted with rust and, two 'beds' that poke out of the walls: thin green cots more like it, cloth held together by aluminum tubes without even a mattress. She focuses the camera on Lara, who has an arm draped over her forehead, covering her eyes.

"You're still on that?" Lara asks.

Her tone is unreadable. It's been that way since they got off the island. It's missing its usual warmth. But she has smiled at Sam. Jesus, Lara nearly fucking died for her. How could she do it? Why did she do it? "You've got a photogenic face." A grim, cynical chuckle is her response. "How much longer until we land?"

"A few weeks until we make it to your stop. We'll have to dock to re-fuel along the way. Unless you're planning on taking the first plane you can." Sam shakes her head. Lara looks at her when Sam flicks the camera light on. "Cut it out."

"It's dark in here." The lighting on the entire ship is flimsy. Lemon yellow, the lights are infrequently distributed, leaving some areas pitch black. The bulb in their room flickered away days ago. She's come to be afraid of the dark, of so many things. Lara, on the other hand, is stronger than ever, fearless. Sam turns the light off but leaves the camera running. Lara turns on her side to face the wall. Sam shuts the camera off. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you."

"And you have. At least five times a day since you heroically carried me down a mountain." Her cheeks redden. "Lara, I'm worried." She stands tentatively and looks down at her. It was days before the blood and mud washed off. Even now her clothes still have traces of both. She's covered in stitches. Sunburned skin is peeling on her back. "You shouldn't blame yourself. I was the one who wouldn't shut up about Yamatai."

"And I was the one who insisted we should go." She sighs. Turns. Sam drops her eyes. Lara takes her arm. The muscles of Lara's forearms are defined, her knuckles cracked, scabbed over, riddled with cuts. There's dirt under her nails. A first for her. Her arms are lined with bruises. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"But Roth, Grim and Alex…"

"That wasn't you. That was Mathias, the son-of-a-bitch. And Whitman." She shakes her head. "Maybe I could have moved faster. I don't know," she sounds frustrated, lost. She lets Sam go. "The important thing is to not blame yourself. Please, Sam. I know this is all hard but we can't let this ruin us."

"It's a good thing they didn't think _you_ were some sun goddess. I'd have to save you and well… the only thing I can shoot is a camera." She grimaces.

Lara cracks a smile for the first time in days. "You'd just have to charm them all, the way you usually do." Lara wraps an arm around Sam's shoulder, pulling her in for an embrace. Her body is hard, muscled, warm. Sam's face rests against her shoulder, lips grazing the newly formed scars, lifting out of her skin like small mountains. Sam relaxes against her. "Were you scared?"

"Terrified. But I knew you would come. Even if I was shocked every time you were there. It seemed impossible. There were so many lunatics, those Solarii? And Mathias and the oni… God, every now and then I wake up and think it was all a bad dream."

Reyes knocks hard on the door, announcing dinner.

"There's your wake up call."

* * *

Lara isn't the same anymore. No surprise there, but she's relaxing some. It's only taken a few days. They're on deck of the ship. The day has been chilly. Lara's taken the camera Sam found and pointed it at far off horizons. The light of the setting sun dances on the water. Lara is enraptured, thoughtful. Sam watches her. Her lip is still split. She thinks of how the Solarii men kicked and punched Lara before dragging her over to witness Sam's demise by fire.

_Sam, look at me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!_

Even then, terrified, tied to a wooden pillar, the ground at her feet blazing all she'd felt was guilt at making Lara worry. Would any of the others on the Resistance have gone through as much to get to her? The answer greets her bleakly. Lara whips the camera to her, a smile on her full lips. "Who knew that being a documentarist could be such a dangerous profession?"

"Don't we usually get more action than the archaeologists?" Sam gets another soft laugh from Lara. "I'm happy to stay behind the scenes, thank you."

"We don't always have a choice on the matter. But… I'd prefer you stay behind-the-scenes at this rate, as well."

"It'll save you a few bruises." Sam says. Lara turns the camera to the waters again. In the distance there are mountains and fog. Ordinarily, the sight would have been breathtaking. It still is. Sam hopes the fear will gradually dwindle. "How are you?"

"The doctor's got me on some antibiotics and some other pill regimen," she dismisses. "No debilitating side affects, thank God." Sam touches a hand to her back, thumb stroking absently. "I think the adrenaline kept me going for a while. I didn't have the option of stopping or slowing down."

"Yeah. Lucky for me."

"And _me_. They would have got me for sure." She takes a breath and lowers the camera. "I didn't like Mathias. The night that we met. You've always been more trusting than me. I didn't trust him but I screwed up. I fell asleep and he took you."

Sam doesn't know how she didn't notice it before. His bizarre dress, his crude accessories and that mad gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. Lara nodded off and Sam was happy to let her. She was in rough shape. Mathias didn't wait long. Sam doesn't know what disgusting thing it was that he covered her mouth with but it smelled of unwashed body and mud. It'd been easy enough to drag her away, her boots kicking in the muddy ground doing little to rouse Lara. The rest of the time was spent bound and guarded, watched lecherously by the hordes of men who served Mathias. She can't claim to know everything that they were thinking but she's old enough to know what some of it was. She shudders.

Lara notices. "I wanted to tell you that it was all going to be okay now. But is it?" She folds her arms over the railing and lowers her head, exhaling. "I wish I could have gotten to you sooner."

"You got to me every time it mattered." She begins to stroke her back again. Lara glances at her furtively, shifting her weight from one foot to another, grimacing when she does so. Sam bites her lip. "Did you have to kill a lot of them?"

Lara stares at her evenly. Then she lowers her head. "Yeah. I did. I counted in the beginning. I was so scared. There was a man—" she stops. The look on her face chills Sam. "Anyway… I eventually lost count." She rubs her face as if trying to wake herself from sleep. "It was so bloody awful, Sam."

Sam takes her hand, twines their fingers. Lara's hand is cold, rough to the touch. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. I wouldn't have been able to do it." Lara shakes her head but Sam stops her. "I'm serious. I couldn't have done it. Ever. I would have wanted to. But… What kept you going? How did you not stop? I mean—it hurts looking at you."

"If I'd have stopped we'd all be dead. You're my best friend. There was no way I was going to let those bastards get away with it." She reaches into her pocket with her free hand and pulls out a folded picture. The two of them on graduation day. Sam smiles. They look so young. They'd had no idea what was in store for them. "When I went to get those tools and to find Alex… I was able to save this, at least. I probably wouldn't have been able to make it out if not for him."

Poor Alex. He'd always had a crush on Lara. Sam isn't sure whether Lara was too oblivious or polite to acknowledge it. "We need pictures so we never forget." Lara folds the picture and tucks it into her back pocket again. Sam leans into her shoulder. "Alex was a good guy. I'll miss him."

"Me too."

* * *

A crack of lightning wakes her. Lara is up already, looking out the oval shaped window to the turbulent waves outside. The ship teeters and Sam isn't able to catch herself before crashing into Lara, hand slamming into her side. Lara cries out and Sam pales, rushing into apology. "What have I done?" Sam asks. "Have I hurt you?" Lara shakes her head but she's white, face gleaming with sweat. "God, Lara, I'm so sorry. Don't try to tell me it doesn't hurt. I can read you like a book." She looks worriedly out the window. "A storm."

"Just the average sort, don't you worry." With a breath she takes a seat on the cot, hand protectively covering her side. Sam moves Lara's hand out of the way but Lara swiftly resettles it. "What are you doing?"

"I want to see what's wrong."

"I've already said it's nothing. A few bruises and such. You've got the same."

Lara doesn't meet her eyes. She's lying! Lara never lies. She's always been awful at hiding even good surprises. Another careening of the ship and Sam spills forward, keeping from crashing into Lara by shooting her hands out to catch herself. The result leaves Lara pinned, looking up at Sam breathlessly. Sam tries to find the air in her lungs. It occurs to her that Lara's never bothered with boyfriends or girlfriends. Her interest had firmly lay in old cultures, things of the past, never the current, never the future. Since the island her focus has shifted but to what Sam can't determine. She hates that she can no longer read the thought before Lara's formulated it.

Lara's tongue runs over her lower lip, eyes averted. "Well, are you going to keep me trapped here?"

"I thought you were impossible to trap?" Sam reaches her hand down, touching on Lara's hip before her fingers slip beneath the fabric of her shirt. Lara inhales sharply—from pain? From something else? Sam doesn't know. She keeps her eyes on her and pulls the shirt up. Her eyes widen. "Jesus Christ!" There's a hole the size of her thumb in Lara's side, swollen and red against her otherwise sandy skin.

"I might have been impaled on some rusty piece of iron. Nothing to worry about… It's cauterized. Don't recommend it unless it's necessary…" She forces a smile. Leave it to Lara to try to reassure her when she's falling to pieces. "You weren't supposed to see it. I was changing the bandage when..." A rumble of thunder makes everything in the room quake. "This came along." She looks at her. "It looks worse than it is."

"Lara..." She bows her head. "You drive me crazy sometimes." Her stomach is doing flips, heart pounding hard. Will she always react this way to storms? "Stop scaring me, all right?"

"All right, all right. I promise." She gingerly pulls her shirt back down. "I'd hate for someone to get the wrong idea." Sam furrows her eyebrows questioningly, stiffening when Lara lifts a hand to the small of her back and stands. Sam's face is nearly nestled in her neck. Lara goes still. "I'm going on deck to get a better look. Care to join me?"

On deck during a storm…? "Ah, no. No. Not at all."

Lara maneuvers Sam so her back is pressed to the cot. Lara moves gracefully, like a dancer or a cat, even in her injured state. "Of course not. That was thoughtless." She palms Sam's face. Sam goes dizzy. "Try not to let the waves bang you up too badly."

"Hey, I'm not that clumsy." Sam bubbles when Lara arches an eyebrow coyly in response. "Let me go with you. I won't step out on deck but I can keep an eye on you." Lara hesitates and Sam takes the opportunity to grab the camera. "Ready when you are."

Lara smiles helplessly. "All right." She takes Sam's hand, the other trailing along the walls of the ship as if it were fine stone or Braille or a lover. Her hand is warm. The roughness is reassuring, a measure of strength. Lara won't let her go, won't let her fall. They careen from wall to wall, Sam stifling a fit of giggles, feeling much too anxious in the roar of the storm.

They pass the kitchen where Reyes and Jonah are mopping up coffee desperately. A broken pot of coffee lies in pieces on the floor. Lara hesitates by the doorway. Sam runs into her. Lara doesn't seem to notice but Reyes and Jonah do. Reyes eyes settle on Sam. Sam can't figure whether she's irritated or smug. Maybe Reyes can be both in one.

"Is there a problem?" Lara asks.

"The crew's working on it," Reyes says but doesn't get far. A deckhand steps forward. He's green, having joined the ship at approximately the same time Lara and remaining Defiance crew did. He's pale and trembling. "We're not sure but the captain thinks we might have hit something."

"What?" Sam looks to Lara desperately.

Lara tightens the hold on Sam's hand. Sam unconsciously moves closer to her, almost as if to hide behind her. "Are you _sure_?"

"They're not sure," Jonah busies himself with cleaning up the glass on the ground, brushing it into a dustpan before dumping it. "The crew is taking a look now."

"Is the ship going to sink?" Sam asks.

"No," Reyes says sharply, turning a particularly dark glare onto Sam. Sam winces at the look and removes her hand from Lara's, thinking that it may help the situation. Reyes has been so angry at the two of them since the ship crashed. Can Sam blame her? She lost Roth. She's trying to get to Alisha. "The ship is _not_ sinking. Maybe they need to make a few repairs… Hell, I'll go help. I'm tired of sitting around." She pushes violently past them.

"We're trying to lay anchor but the chain is stuck," the greenhorn says. "If we haven't hit anything, if we haven't taken damage… then we don't need it but if we have…"

"Oh God." Sam blanches.

"Then the first thing we need to do is make sure the ship doesn't sink. Has everyone else been alerted? Why weren't _we _alerted?" Lara asks, anger creeping into her voice. The deckhand shuffles awkwardly. "Jonas?"

"They thought they had a handle on it." He shakes his head. His beard is growing in scraggly with every passing day. He looks tired and guilty. The island has left them depleted. "I'll go check on the lifeboats. Just in case." He plants a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hopefully it won't come to that."

"I'll start rounding up the life vests," the deckhand looks at Sam. "I could use some help." Sam backs away. It doesn't occur to her that it's childish. This can't be happening. Not again. The video camera hangs lifelessly from her hand. Her heart is thrumming, her mouth dry. "We'll need them. It'll be faster if the two of us go."

"No," Sam says.

"Sam!" Jonas' thick eyebrows have narrowed. "Snap out of it. We need to prepare."

"No, she's right." Lara looks at the three of them. "If the ship _is_ sinking we need to plug the drains, we need to lay anchor. This is the safest place we can be, _especially_ in the middle of a storm. Life vests won't do a damned thing for us if we're all dragged under. And if the storm is battering this ship what do you think it'll do to a lifeboat? One of these waves could carry us for miles in an instant—if we aren't killed immediately. But vests are better than nothing." She turns to the deckhand. "Go find them." She turns to Jonas. "And Jonas, if the drains aren't plugged you have to go help them pump the water out."

"What are you going to do?"

Lara's jaw tightens. "I'll just have to go see what we can do about that anchor." Sam thinks of where the anchor is chained. Thirty feet or so belong the railing off to the side of the ship. It is a slick, inverted slope. The waves have been battering the side for hours. Lara decides it efficiently and marches off without so much as a backward glance. She heads back to the room, picking up her climbing spike and securing it on the belt on her thigh.

"Lara, no."

"We have to get it down, Sam. There's no choice."

"There is a choice. I mean, are you crazy? You don't even know this ship."

"I didn't know Yamatai but I made do." The ship rolls them both towards the wall. Sam slams back, the camera crunching against the wall. She examines it. The lens is cracked. She wants to cry. Everything is going to hell. "I know you're afraid but we'll find a way through this. It might be nothing."

"Stop lying."

Lara lowers her face. "I'm afraid too," she admits. "But I know I can do this. Thanks to Yamatai… I believe I can do anything." Sam drops the camera. It clatters and slides across the floor.

"What if something happens to you?" Sam says. The sharp shrill of the wind takes her words, leaves her breathless. Lara's eyes search her face. The sweltering storm is changing the air around them, charging it, making it sultry, humid, unbearable. "What would I do?" What would she do? She's never been without her. Why can't she be stronger like her? Why is she so useless?

"Go to Jonah and Reyes. Help them." Doesn't she know that Jonah and Reyes think she's a hindrance more than anything? Outside of making documentaries, what's she good for? Nothing on a ship. Lara grasps her shoulder firmly. "Don't worry about me." Sam begins to protest. Lara is tense, wired. She closes the distance between them anxiously and catches her lips. Lara's lips are chapped, cracked, a hint of the taste of blood on them but warm and electrifying against her own. Sam stills. When Lara pulls away she's uncertain, nervous. She pushes the hair back from her face, can't quite meet her eyes. "Go on, Sam. I can't always hold your hand."

Sam is still holding her breath when Lara leaves the room. Sam touches her lips, her cheeks, runs her fingers through her hair shakily. She can't think. Her mind is blown. She's elated, terrified, her feelings flinging and shifting like the waves. She goes to the door to look after her but Lara is gone.

* * *

Sam slips the yellow life vest on and runs unsteadily down the halls of the ship, finding a balance and rhythm in the chaos, making it out to the deck. She's soaked in moments, sheets of cold hard rain settling over her like a blanket of frost. She goes numb too quickly. Lara stands by the railings in the hazy distance. "Lara!" Sam has changed her fashionable boots of before to rubber ones but their grip isn't perfect. She slips, crashing hard on one knee before pushing herself to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her leg as she races to the rail with a rope.

"Sam! What are you doing? Get back inside."

"I found a rope!" It's big, as thick as her wrist, the strands braided tightly. Grim taught her to tie ropes. She begins to attach it to the railing but starts to lose her footing. Lara's hand lashes out between the rails to grab her. "Thought you weren't holding my hand anymore," she shouts. It's difficult to see with the rain plastering her hair to her face. She begins circling the other end around Lara, who mutters a cry of frustration, jumping over the other side to help her. "Just tie the other end around your waist and—"

"It could snap me in half, Sam."

"It's better than falling into the water!" Maybe, anyway. Waves crash onto the deck, sending inches of water along the steel floor. "I'll help pull you up—if it gets too slippery to climb." Lara looks near angry, frustrated. She's never looked that way at her, except when her partying has interfered with her precious night's rest before going on some archaeological expedition. "Let me do this, Lara. Damn it. Let me help you."

Lara makes quick work of making a harness of the rope, difficult considering the thickness of it. Maybe it was all a terrible idea. Sam shows her the gloves she wears. "You'll let me know if you need some slack and if I need to help pull."

"Sam, the wind and water could carry you away."

"You didn't let that stop you. You're wasting time."

Lara climbs over the railing again, pulling violently on the rope, arms muscled and lean testing it. Satisfied she begins to descend. The rope pulls taut too quickly and Sam gasps looking over the railing. "Lara!" She pulls on the rope but it's too heavy to properly budge. She strains, pulling until her hand and fingers burn. Weak. She's too damned weak. "Lara! Answer me!"

Nothing.

She wipes at her eyes, the rain making it impossible to see. She could climb over the railing to take a look but if she lost her grip and slipped… No. She's just scared. Lara would do the same without even thinking. She grips the cold bar as best as she can and slips between them. There is only black and the spit of salty water stinging her face. Her eyes burn. She shouts her name again. All she can hear is the roar of the sea. The thick rope beneath her slides this way and that but for all she knows it's Lara's lifeless body swinging back and forth. The thought makes her want to vomit.

She continues to stare into the depths until she hears a metal clanging, the sound of a faint jackhammer like a ping in the distance. The rope goes tight again, moving back in her direction. She watches it suspiciously until minutes later, Lara climbs back on deck. Sam grasps her slippery arm as best as she can, helping to yank her up. Lara smiles, grateful but takes quick hold of Sam's arm and pushes her back through the railing and to the other side. "It was rusted," she explains hurrying inside. Sam scurries to keep up with her. "Let's head down. If the drains are open they're going to need help."

Having her near again makes it hard to think. She follows her lead, follows her down into the bowels of the ship. The water grips at her knees like the fingers of death. She inhales sharply. Lara looks back at her. "I'm okay," she tells her, teeth chattering.

Reyes glances up at them. "About damned time you two showed up." Another accusatory look in their direction. Lara takes it in stride, asking what needs to be done and getting down to work, using buckets to hurl out gallons of water. "We've got it patched up but we still need to get rid of the water." Sam looks around for a spare bucket but can't see to find one. "You too good to work, Sun Queen?"

Lara glances back at them in concern.

"What's your problem?" Sam asks. "Can you stop riding my ass for even a minute? Do you think any of this has been fun for me? I'm sorry about Roth, we're all sorry about Roth but none of us picked this." Lara hands her a bucket, a hand gently touching her back.

"Sorry. I asked Sam to give me a hand with the anchor," Lara stops Sam's protest with a look before she can start. Reyes has always been hardest on Lara. Lara looks to Reyes. "Let's all save the arguments for later, shall we?"

The crew works at removing the water, Sam moving with angry indignation that fuels her with an energy and strength she didn't know existed. "I'm so tired of her," she mutters frustratedly.

"It's been hard for her, too. I know it's difficult, but cut her some slack," she breathes into her ear. Sam pauses in clearing the water to look at her. Lara has relaxed considerably. Maybe the worst of it is over and it's going to be okay. Sam nods. Lara runs a hand tentatively down her arm and moves to talk to the others.

Sam remembers that Lara kissed her. How did she forget? What did it mean? Was she expecting it to be a one-way trip? Had she meant to kiss her cheek and kissed her mouth instead? Her mind goes foggy with the memory and against all reason she tries to recall the exact sensation. What if Lara did it again? Would she let her? Would she want it? Her face is hot.

"You falling asleep over there?" Reyes asked. "We're not done yet."

Sam grits her jaw and scoops faster.

* * *

They've docked to refuel the ship. It's taking longer than usual due to the damage the ship suffered in the storm. They're just happy they made it safely to land. For the time being they're stuck on another island but this one is more habitable than Yamatai. Tourists of every nationality peruse shops, meander the beaches, fill restaurants.

Sam is glad to have some room to stretch. She, Jonah and Reyes have opted for some small degree of luxury, booking a dirt-cheap hotel room at one of the more well-known venues. Lara, unsurprisingly, has decided to rent a small shack by the water. It's barely larger than their room on the ship but it has colorful walls, a bath and a barely-there kitchen. Seagulls peruse the skies, screeching condescendingly down to them, encouraging them to move along.

Lara lies on a worn hammock spread between two palm trees, her journal clutched tightly. She has been fixated on it since leaving Yamatai. Sam suspects she has chronicled some of the 'adventure' they shared on the island but if she's right (and she suspects she is) it has some of her father's work detailed out, some of his theories, unclaimed discoveries and tombs begging to be explored.

"Reyes thinks I'm in love with you." Sam says. Her throat locks up as soon as she's said the words. She takes a drink of the sweating beer bottle in hand and looks at Lara who sways gently in the hammock.

"Are you?" she doesn't look at her, doesn't sound terribly surprised or bothered by the prospect. She asks the question as if asking if Sam is going to a party later in the evening. It was supposed to be funny, ridiculous. Lara was supposed to get up and laugh, they were supposed to joke about it, have pretend conversations where they confessed their undying love. Sam looks at the scar that has formed across the bridge of Lara's nose. How can she make even that look attractive, damn it.

Sam changes tactics. "Why aren't you staying at the hotel?"

"With all those tourists? No thanks." She smiles over at her. "Besides, the best company I could have has decided to make an appearance." She shrugs gently.

"I brought a six-pack. Want one?"

"Is it cold?"

"For the time being," she sets the six-pack down and pulls out a beer, uncapping it before moseying to Lara and handing it over. Lara shuts the journal on her chest and sits up. She lifts the bottle, clinking it against Sam's before taking a drink. "Scoot over." Lara does and Sam sits, the balance negotiable. Lara grabs hold of the top of the hammock to not fall over. "You have plans tonight?"

"Let me guess. There's a party? With cute boys?" She takes another drink of the beer and runs the back of her hand over her forehead, to wipe the glaze of sweat from her forehead. The island is humid, the sun scorching. No amount of air conditioning or fresh breezes have yet to cool Sam down. She's hoping night will bring something better. "I'd like to have a break from being camped around a fire. I did plenty of that in Yamatai. It was freezing some nights." She looks at her. "Did you sleep while we were on the island?"

"Barely. In bits and pieces, mostly. I was afraid of what would happen if I fell asleep. A lot of those guys hadn't seen a woman in a long time. Not one that they didn't kill, anyway." She looks down at Lara's bare feet and back to her, the way she takes a thoughtful drink of her beer. "You?"

"I did. Somehow. Here and there. Minutes at a time." She slides her thumb along the wet label of the beer bottle, the green edges beginning to slide away. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" A small lizard darts past their feet and Sam yelps, quickly tucking her feet back into the hammock. It happens too quickly. One minute they're looking at the scurrying lizard, the next they're knocked flat on their back on the sandy ground. Grains of sand stick to them. Sam apologizes but Lara laughs. "It's a lizard."

"I wasn't expecting it!" Sam stares up at the palm tree, saddened at her spilled beer quickly being gulped down by the thirsty sand. Lara's own beer has been salvaged but she's buried it in the sand, focusing instead on the journal beside her before slipping it shut again. "You've been looking at that a lot. Have you been thinking about your dad?"

"Yeah." Her smile is embarrassed. Her arm is crusted in sand and she stands off, tries to smack the particles away before extending a hand to Sam and pulling her to her feet. "This place is great," she turns her attention back to the waters, to the far off coves. "I've been eyeing the local books. There is a lot to explore. Some things, even that Father mentioned to me before. And before I wouldn't have taken it seriously but now… I mean, who knows?"

Sam appraises her curiously. She's got that serious look to her eye again, that hard determination in her voice. "There isn't too much time to explore," she says lightly. "Jonah said the repairs aren't expected to take much longer. A few days, max." She shakes the sand from her clothing and bare legs. "Unless you're planning on becoming a local."

"No, nothing like that. Not quite, anyway." She takes a breath. "Sam…"

Sam bites her tongue and squashes the panic beginning to surface. Despite the high temperature, she's cold. "I can't believe I just dumped us into the sand like that." Sam picks up the empty beer bottle moving into the small house. "I need a beer! You ready for another?" She digs through the bare wooden cabinets with their flaking paint and searches for a trash can. "Where's your trash?"

Lara nods her head to the corner of the bottom cabinets. Sam tosses the bottle and picks up another cold one. She tries to twist it open but her strength has left her. She swears under her breath. Lara reaches out for it but Sam pulls away. Lara sets her beer down and wipes her hand along her face before settling them on her hips. "I _can't_ go back home. Not after what happened. Everything's changed. I have to re-evaluate everything I thought I knew. About my life and the world and my father."

Sam struggles with the beer bottle before releasing a frustrated growl and setting it down with a clunk on the kitchen counter. "This is really important to me. Please understand."

"How can you just spring this on me?" Sam's eyes sting. She turns around so Lara won't see her so close to the edge. She feels as if she's been punched. On the island she was constantly in a state of panic. It stayed for so long that it began to feel normal. But here, on this beautiful island, in this small shack with a beer and her best friend, the revelation comes like a brutal assault. "How long have you been thinking about this? If I hadn't made that comment just now would you have told me?"

"Of course. Of course, Sam." She hears Lara's soft footsteps pad closer. The beer bottle she was fighting with is uncapped and set just to the side of her. "I hate it when you're angry with me. Maybe I should have told you sooner. I was afraid of… well. Of this."

Sam takes a lungful of air and squeezes her eyes shut. Her tears burn beneath her eyelids and she wraps her arms around herself for warmth, for comfort, to keep from dismantling then and there. Lara's hands settle over hers. Sam bows her head, afraid to speak and say something foolish or hurtful. She feels Lara press up behind her and tenses, incapable of taking or releasing breath. "I'll go with you," she forces.

"You're a brilliant documentarist," Lara says quietly, the smile in her voice plain. "You can't waste your potential following me around. You've better things to explore. I can't put you in danger like that again. I won't do it."

Sam breaks away from her. She glowers to keep the tears in her eyes. "Why did you kiss me before?" She accuses. "Did I make that up?" It's been days and still no mention of it from Lara. Lara steps back, ducking her head, averting her eyes. "You coward." She's nearly out the door when she returns for the six-pack. She takes it with her, slamming the door shut on the way out.

* * *

The beach party has been raging all night with no end in sight. Scantily clad men and women run through the beach sands, dancing, drinking, flirting. Jonah and Reyes attended for an hour or so before quickly growing bored and turning in for the night. Lara doesn't attend. Sam is disappointed but not surprised.

Some of the local boys flirt. Dark eyed, bronze boys with full lashes and lips that smile and whisper. Sam flirts back, lets them touch her knee, lets one kiss her ear. She shivers and wishes it were Lara. The realization makes her nauseas.

"Sorry," Lara's softly accented voice breaks the fugue Sam's in. She looks up from the petrified log she sits on. "I guess I've arrived a bit late to the party." Sam jumps to her feet, spraying sand everywhere and nearly knocking the man at her side back. Lara lowers her voice. "Have I interrupted?"

"Yeah," the guy says irritably.

Sam pushes a hand behind her to silence him, feels her palm connect with flesh, a nose. She groans inwardly. He groans outwardly. "You said you weren't coming." She moves away from the log, leaving the man behind. The bonfire burns high, flames stretching out to the sky, washing Lara's face in soft, warm light. She misses her camera and video equipment, lamenting the missed shots and opportunities, the set-up that would be required to capture Lara perfectly in this moment. "Why'd you change your mind?"

Lara eases her hands into the back pockets of her pants. She stretches, toes dug firmly into the sand, solid shoulders back, neck arched, lips parted. Sam feels the heat of the fire even from a distance. "I wasn't expecting to have to explain myself. I thought it'd be obvious."

"Nothing's obvious about you these days."

Lara watches her. "I didn't want everything to change at Yamatai. You know that, don't you?" She turns her gaze to the absent stars. "I know how pissed Reyes is. And Jonah—he must be feeling all the losses. I can't blame them. No matter what anyone says it was _my_ idea to go there. I insisted. I knew Roth would do anything I asked if I asked hard enough. And he did. What happened at Yamatai is horrible and everyone is going to have to wear it and carry it with us wherever we go. Not just in the scars. It can't be let go of. It can't be forgotten. At least… I can't let go of it. I won't be able to forget it." She exhales and locks her eyes firmly with hers. "There was…so much I didn't know until we crashed on that god-forsaken island."

"You came away from it stronger than ever." Sam plays absently with the delicate chain around her neck. "I just got more and more scared as time went on. And when I didn't think it could get worse it did. When I thought I was done for you would be there. And when you were gone, things would go wrong again." She inhales shakily. "I don't think I could have gotten more… you could have given more on that island. Saved me from being sucked into some dead body to be worshipped as some Sun Queen."

"I was always under the impression that you wanted to be worshipped."

Sam shoves her. Lara smiles. "You carried me down a mountain for God's sake. While I wore some bizarre ceremonial bridal type dress." She laughs. "Not quite the image my parents had in mind for me." She swallows the lump in her throat. "I can't stop you from doing what you love or leading your life. I wouldn't want to. It's just…" her face and fingers feel numb, "I'm so used to having you in my life. To having you be there. I'm so afraid to be without you."

* * *

An old, rickety wide fan spins lazily from side to side, trying in vain to cool the room while a moth flutters around the burning lightbulb over the bed. Lara kisses her gingerly, the two of them hesitating for moments at a time, meeting eyes, granting consent before continuing.

Sam has been fighting this thought since Lara claimed a kiss on the ship. She doesn't know why she fought it, doesn't know why she didn't pursue it. Lara's lips on her neck, fingertips along her pulse make her pull back to study her. Sam knows how hard her heart is pounding, harder than a marathon, harder than escape, fiercer than a storm. Sam nods and they kiss again.

She's gentle, so gentle, like a wave grazing the sand. She's careful. "Have you ever…?" Sam asks. Lara shakes her head anxiously and Sam takes her face in her hands, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her. Lara wraps her arms around her like an anchor. Sam's breath runs away from her. She's afraid she'll cry from happiness, sadness, maybe anger. Lara's leaving. Lara is leaving her.

Lara kisses her deeply. Maybe they can still read each other like books. Sam always liked to think they had some kind of mental connection. So did the others. Did the others know about this before they did? Was that the reason for the looks, for the commentary? Does she know how desperately Sam needs to feel connected to her right now?

There's a deep groove along Lara's upper arm. Was it a deep cut? An arrow? A bullet? The unforgiving mountains? Sam's fingers hook beneath Lara's tanktop, pulling it away. She is bruised still, varying colors splashed along her olive skin, cuts, the place where she was impaled by some iron rod. Sam takes it in. She kisses her every hurt, her atonement, her thank you. She hasn't thanked her yet. Maybe if she doesn't thank her, she won't leave. She'll wait.

Sam's hands touch Lara's shoulders, easing her down shirtless onto the bed. Her legs are unsteady as Lara pulls the thin leather belt from her shorts, wrapping it around her hand before discarding it.

The air is as thick. Sam can't take enough in as Lara tugs her down, lays her bare, worships her. She takes her, wave after wave, tide after tide, through the fury of the storm, until she's hot, feeling too close to the sun that hasn't yet risen. Sam gasps for air, all of it driven too hard, too quickly into her lungs until she's filled and spent, whipped by the winds, flying, flying… Lara's mouth on her body grounds her, sends her spinning into vertigo.

Lara touches her face, curious, the fascination of some lovely new discovery playing across her features. Sam takes hold of her again. They kiss languid and passionate, two things in one, two different things in one, fingers laced, moving against one another again, slowly, finding their rhythm. Sam has always liked dancing. Her hand slides along Lara's face, beneath her. She's beautiful. So damned beautiful. Lara gasps once, seemingly surprised at her own outcry before sharp breath is drawn in once more. A gasp of pain? A realization? Eyes soft, cheeks flushed. Sam's thumb grazes Lara's mouth. Her breath is hot, tip of her tongue along her skin. Sam lowers her face, eager to taste her lips again, to share her breath.

Does Lara love her? Is Lara in love with her?

* * *

The weapons and climbing tools are displayed across the table like a trophy case. The bow and arrow are laid most properly, arrows in a quiver to the side. A handgun gleams with a silencer, an assault rifle with crude ribbon and tape, a shotgun that looks frightening in its brutality. Weapons of destruction, the weapons of her salvation. Sam touches them. What did Lara look like when she used them? Feel like when she used them?

Lara wanders into the kitchen through the front door. "You're up. Rats. I was hoping to surprise you."

Sam sits at the kitchen table with a blanket wrapped around her. Lara smiles nervously and hastily begins to move the weapons. "I was trying to take stock," she says with a dismissive shake of the head, as if Sam couldn't understand or wouldn't want to. She produces a greasy brown paper bag and hands it over. The delicate aromas awaken Sam's appetite and she digs into the bag, pulling out a small plastic passion fruit juice bottle and two steaming balls of what look to be potato. "There's meat inside with spices," Lara tells her, "and don't give me that vegan stuff. Not today, all right? I looked."

Sam's already bitten into the first potato concoction, her stomach clamoring hungrily for the nutrient. "Oh my fucking God. This is delicious. Where did you get these?" Some little market, Lara explains, though Sam can't recall any nearby. Sam hurriedly finishes the first ball and starts on the second. "When did you get up?"

"Early. I… haven't quite found my way back to a normal sleeping schedule yet and… I'm not used to the company," she brushes past her, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead and sitting across from her. She whips out a Kodak instant camera and throws it to Sam who fumbles with one potato ball in hand before catching the camera. "I know it isn't as fancy as what you'd like but it's something. You wouldn't believe the crowds I had to wade through to get to that."

Sam sets the relleno down and points the camera at Lara, snapping a picture. "I've missed taking your picture. Don't worry. The instant ones don't take souls," she says cheekily. Lara smiles faintly. "You didn't see Jonas and Reyes, did you? Oh, God. Do you think they think something is going on?"

"Not sure," she says noncommittally. "Would it matter?" Sam shakes her head, looking fondly at the new throw-away camera and food. "They mentioned the ship is leaving at five today." Sam's body goes taut. "The repairs went quicker than they expected." Her voice goes high and light at the end, trailing away. "Sometimes the stars align."

"I need to get new equipment. Do you know how much that last cost? Replacing it is going to take a while. I hadn't finished paying off all of it yet." She picks up the napkin and wipes her mouth delicately. "And I'm not accepting any more of your money so don't offer." Lara raises her hands, her white flag. "You can't hold my hand forever, right? We all have to grow up."

"You seem plenty grown to me," Lara says softly, playing with a beercap on the table. Sam watches a lizard scamper across the floor and begs to be distracted. "Last night…"

"You'll send a postcard, won't you? I'll need to know where you are so I can track you down. Forget about Whitman—you and me are going to put archaeology on the map. You'll get treasure, I'll get an Oscar... It will be amazing." Sam nods. "But you'll have to tell me where you are. You'll have to let me know that you're okay." Her words peter off at the end. Lara nods solemnly. "Do you promise?"

She hesitates for too long. "I promise."

Lara's promises are no laughing matter. Sam rises slowly from the chair and returns to the bedroom. Lara follows. The sheet falls away, bowing gracefully to the tempest, temptress Lara Croft. A cool breeze picks up, blasting the wooden window panes open.

They kiss again, craven and urgent. Sam tries to bottle her tears as she pulls Lara's clothes away. Reyes was right. Damn it all. She was right all along.


End file.
